


The Kneazley Manner (Part One of the Happy Kneazley Days Series)

by ThroughStygianColouredGlasses (orphan_account)



Series: Happy Kneazley Days [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Abuse (non-explicit), Arabella Figg (mentioned), Dudley Dursley (mentioned), Kneazle!Draco, Kneazle!Harry, Kneazles, M/M, Petunia Dursley (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:35:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ThroughStygianColouredGlasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Draco, the spoiled, purebred Chausie Kneazle belonging to lonely widow Narcissa Malfoy. He sleeps on feather pillows, plays with Demiguise fur yarn, and eats on silver platters. Now meet Harry, the abused, hybrid Cornish Rex Kneazle who was just recently rescued by Kneazle fosterer Arabella Figg from his prior muggle owners. He’s sickly thin with too-large eyes, a kittenish personality, and a coat of short fur that curls scruffily over his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kneazley Manner (Part One of the Happy Kneazley Days Series)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Takara Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Takara+Phoenix).



> “It's a measly manner of existence. To get on that subway on the hot mornings in summer. To devote your whole life to keeping stock, or making phone calls, or selling or buying. To suffer fifty weeks of the year for a two week vacation, when all you really desire is to be outdoors, with your shirt off. And still-that's how you build a future.” –Arthur Miller
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything in this story except the story itself. I make no money from this, or any other tangible gain (obviously).

**Chapter I, Part A:** It’s a Kneazley Life

  All in all, Draco had so far lived a good life. Yes, there was those startling and confusing few months when he had immediately been taken from his Birther, his Mother, and put into a strange, bulky collar that would shock him when he did anything bad or plebian, but Draco had always been a quicker learner than most, and the collar had been removed quickly. He had been the first of his litter to be adopted, not that he ever got to see much of his litter at the Millshire Kneazle Breeding Farm.

  His Companion was Narcissa Malfoy, an attractive enough Two-Legs with corn silk hair and grey eyes tilted almost like that of many Kneazles. She had lost her Kizzen shortly after childbirth, and soon after her Mate had cowardly abandoned his grieving She-Mate by taking his own life. Pah, pathetic Two-Legs. Draco abhorred his type, although he did hold a fond spot for his Companion Narcissa. Not that he _loved_ her or anything as… as _catlike_ as that, no. Draco was a good, purebred Kneazle, far nobler than any _cat_ , and properly trained Kneazles just did _not_ love anything or anyone excepting themselves, and possibly their mate and children if their union was born out of love and not some random heat or a need to populate the area with little, newborn Kizzens. But Draco held no illusions that such a thing would happen to him, being the purebred Kneazle scion that he was, so he would love no one but himself.

  Still, though, Draco _was_ starting to get lonely, with no one but a stupid Two-Legs who didn’t understand what he said to talk to, and no one to boss around while he played with his many toys and possibly let them play with, too. Which was why he was acting out.

  He wasn’t pouting, or throwing a fit, or anything like that, but he was being more stubborn and princely, hissing and spitting at even the smallest of touches from his Companion Narcissa, tipping over ancient vases and unreplaceable pictures, scratching up the imported leather couch, and other small things of no big consequence, hoping beyond hope that, however unintelligent Two-Legs were, his was at least smart enough to understand what he wanted.

  And when she did, well… _that,_ my poor, pathetic Two-Legs friends, is when the proud, purebred magical familiar Draco met the one who would change his Kneazley life forever—when Draco met Harry.

 **Chapter I, Part B:** Kneazle Street

  All in all, Harry had so far lived a pretty terrible life. Sure, he wasn’t being kicked or burned or starved anymore, but he was in _foster home_ for _Kneazles_. It was a big step up from his former Master’s home, Master Dudley, but it was crowded and stinky, and his new, temporary Master was an old, doddering Two-Legs named Arabella Figg who could barely remember her own name, let alone those of the Kneazles she fostered.

  Most of the Kneazles Harry now lived with were on okay sort, content to just brood over their meaningless existence or come and go from one fosterer to the next. There were a few, however, who were traditional purebreds, born and trained at a Kneazle Breeding Farm before being thrown out if they weren’t adopted in time, or, if they _were_ adopted, thrown of their own home for one reason or another. For the most part, traditional purebreds like the ones Master Arabella was currently fostering _hated_ cats, and just above their hatred for cats was their derision and scorn for Half-Kneazles, which Harry was. His mother may have been the same muggle cat breed as his father had been Kneazle breed, but it didn’t matter to them. He had the blood of mundane, pedestrian cats in his blood, and so he was beneath them, worthy only of taunts and harassment in their eyes.

  Harry could remember, vaguely, his life before Master Arabella and Master Dudley, when he had lived in a warm, comfortable home with a large group of red-furred Two-Legs that he _thought_ were called the Weasley clan. He had slept by a fire with his cat mother and Kneazle father, and all of his half-Kneazle siblings. He was given milk, and baths, and toys, but that all changed the night his family was slaughtered by a wolf while they were practicing their hunting outdoors. Panicked, Kizzen Harry had ran off, only to be snatched off some sidewalk in an area totally unfamiliar to him several hours later. He remembered the loud whining and screaming of the huge Two-Legs Kizzen who held him, and then the nasally voice of his Milk Giver before falling into unconsciousness. When he woke up, he was in Kneazle hell, and he stayed there for two years before being rescued by Master Arabella.

  He knew he was a freak, even among Half-Kneazles. Kneazles were so rarely treated poorly by their Masters because most could fight back or run away, but not Harry. The attack by wolves had shaken his previously boundless sense of adventure and justice, and it seemed his exploration days were over. He was a thing, mangy Half-Kneazle because of, not only is rather skinny breed, but his horrid Kizzenhood as well, making it nearly impossible for him to do any sort of real damage to his Master Dudley.

  So Harry hoped and hoped that one day, a good Two-Legs who didn’t mind having a freaky Kneazle with ribs sticking out and eyes too large and round would come around and adopt him, but that was just a dream, and Harry was positive such a thing would never happen to him.

  So when the Two-Legs Sirius Black came along looking for a familiar so that his cousin’s Kneazle would have some companionship, Harry was understandably startled that, after taking only one long look at Harry’s thin, messy coat and unKneazleyish round, green eyes, Master Sirius adopted him.

 **Chapter I, Part C** : The Meeting of Two Kneazles

  “’Lo, Cissa,” Sirius greeted his cousin cheerfully, much too cheerfully for it only being nine in the morning, thought Narcissa uncharitably. Was it too much to ask for to simply be left alone to wallow in self-pity and chocolate éclairs on a Valentine’s Day about how miserable her life was? Yes, yes it apparently was.

  “Sirius. What _is_ that thing in your hands?” she asked coolly, although the fond twitch to her lips supposedly resembling a smile belayed her brisk tone. The twitching increased when she heard the soft, welcome thumps of her rather large Chausie Kneazle, Draco, entering the drawing room, his white, flecked cream fur shiny silkily and his nose upturned in a perfect picture of Kneazle aristocracy. Bending over, Narcissa gently picked Draco up around his firm belly and broad ribs. After she began to stroke his neck, causing him to rumble his deep purr, she raised an eyebrow in question at Sirius.

  “Oh, right,” he chirped, not looking at all ashamed at having been caught staring enviously at Narcissa’s platter of freshly done éclairs, conveniently located in the best possible position to be seen by any visitor. “You know how Draco’s been acting a bit mad these past few weeks?” Here he paused, allowing Draco to give his obligatory hiss, “Well, I thought to myself, ‘What else would a spoilt prince of a Kneazle who has everything his tiny heart could desire want?’” Again, he waited for the hiss. “It came to me in a dream!” he proclaimed dramatically, “A dream in which your very own, handsome Kneazle here was running around in a meadow of poppies, the sky a clear blue, the sun a glowing warmth, with a cute, little mate to protect and cherish trotting by his side.”

  Narcissa’s hand stilled, and Draco stopped purring, both looking over at Sirius incredulously. “You think… that _my_ Draco… would desire anyone’s companionship over my own?” Her voice got quieter and sharper with each word spoken.

  Sirius nodded with suspiciously innocent eyes, saying, “Yes, why? Is that so unusual, for a Kneazle who has not been in the presence of another of his species since his Kizzle days to want another Kneazle to play with, possibly to mate with?” And so, despite to protest welling on the tip of Narcissa’s suddenly stuttering tongue, Sirius drew out his wand, tapped the blindingly white, heart-pattered, wrapping-papered box with his wand. It exploded in a flurry of nose and red, pink, and white confetti, perfect for Valentine’s Day. Draco shrieked loudly and twisted out of a startled Narcissa’s arms, scratching her in his haste to get away from the shocking noise and mayhem. Once the excessive amount of confetti had faded after hitting the floor (handy spellwork, that, Narcissa thought reluctantly), Sirius held in his hands a rather odd sight.

  It was a Kneazle, although the smaller-than-Kneazle-average ears and only partially tufted tail tip told of perhaps a Kneazle-Cat hybrid. The Kneazle wasn’t a very handsome or even pretty thing, it was far too skinny, with its ribs and hipbone jutting out, its legs spindly and knees knobby. Its face was delicate and triangular and its vividly dark green eyes were far too large and round for any cat, let alone a Kneazle of such extreme smallness. Its black, red splotched fur was strange, too, looking so incredibly soft, just curling and sticking out in every direction, scruffy-like and chaotic, with one ear completely red. Still, however, despite the rather alien appearance it presented, it was still completely adorable in a childish, innocent way, blinking up at Narcissa and Sirius in confusion before spotting Draco and leaping awkwardly from Sirius’s hands to land in front of the larger, affronted Kneazle.

   Draco held still, watching the strange, oversized mouse with narrowed eyes. Oh, if this little _thing_ thought he could steal Draco’s Companion Narcissa, he had another thing coming! Just as Draco was about to open up his mouth and yowl in complaint, something happened to stop him in his tracks.

  The fragile, bony creature reached a twiggy arm into the air _and taped Draco’s nose_.

  Oh, it was on.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by reading some of Takara Phoenix's one-shots on Nicercy and other Sub!Percy pairings. Of course, I just had to apply an adorable, Sub!MC to our very own Harry Potter. TPh, this is for you.


End file.
